


Gunpowder, Lace and Lead

by TheFireInHerEyes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Historical, Bandits & Outlaws, Bucky Barnes & Peggy Carter Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Cowboy Hats, Cowboys & Cowgirls, F/M, Gen, Historical, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:54:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23403337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFireInHerEyes/pseuds/TheFireInHerEyes
Summary: It’s 1880 in Colorado, and James Buchanan Barnes is the only form of the law in the town of Atlas. Reluctantly as he is sheriff, it is better than the alternative: jail or hanging.He has been sheriff for just over two years, and in his time as sheriff, he has been riddled with guilt, hopeful to erase the red from his past.As hard as he tries to earn forgiveness by protecting the residents of Atlas, he still feels haunted by his past.And that is preventing him from finding happiness like his dearest friend has. He doesn’t think he deserves the gentle touch of a kind woman, the love that would make him a husband.When a fresh face comes to Atlas, the newest school teacher, Bucky is drawn to the young woman and her bold New York strength.The closer he gets to the new teacher, the more he desires a taste of domestic bliss, of being a husband and having a wife to come home to.If only his guilt would let him…
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 3
Kudos: 25





	1. Prologue

New York – 1880

Your mothers displeasure as you stuffed your belongings into a series of trunks and bags, could be felt throughout the entire house.

The maids had left the floor entirely, seeking to spend their afternoon in the kitchens or the seating area, entertaining your mothers guests while your mother screamed at you.

“I can’t be here anymore, mother.” You stopped your action of putting the last corset into the trunk, and spared a single glance over your shoulder.

Your mother was standing against the wall near your dresser, clutching a silver cross in her hand. Her eyes were glossy and misting over as one tear followed the other, rolling down her cheeks.

“I’ve accepted a job as a teacher in Colorado. They’re…desperate mother. And I need to do this. I can’t explain why, I just…” You raised your head and stood up straight.

“I’ve made the decision. I’m leaving tomorrow.” Even if you spoke surely, your voice shook.

Even if you had followed the advice of your dear friend who had left long ago, to pursue the same freedom, your lip trembled.

This journey was the most frightening endeavor you have ever considered taking. And to be honest with yourself, you were nearly considering backing out.

But the series of letters stuffed in your trunk from your childhood friend, from someone you had once considered a sister, urging you to find the kind of happiness she had found, was enough to solidify your choice.

“Margaret will be there?” Your mother placed her hands on your cheeks. “Margaret will greet you and help you get adjusted?”

Your mother brushed her thumbs across your cheekbones, your tears matching hers. The familiar and striking hazel eyes that you had looked into all your life with such love, held no less of it now. But along with the deep devotion and love that a mother had for her daughter, there was fear.

“Yes mother. Margaret will greet me. And her husband. She’s married now. She met her husband while doing the same job I will be doing.” The added note about Margaret being married was supposed to ease your mother, but the added shake of her hands on your cheeks told you otherwise.

“Only Margaret would find a husband while defying all social expectations.” Your mother scoffed at the ludicrously act of your dear friend, but there was a hidden respect behind the façade.

Perhaps your mother was envious that Margaret lived such an exciting life in the pursuit of her happiness and joy. Perhaps your mother was jealous of the opportunity she had taken for herself, and now you.

“if it becomes too much,” your mothers breath hitched in her throat, “you will come back here and rejoin a proper society?”

“I-“ your mother cut you off, pleading with you.

“Consider it, darling. I know your father and I cannot hold you back from this choice you’ve made, we’ve tried. But please…don’t lose yourself in the idea that freedom from the society that loves us will bring you freedom.”

You smiled small and closed the last trunk, securing the latch. This was the end of you days in New York. You would not look back.


	2. Chapter 1

Colorado – 1880

The pungent stench of day old ale, piss and vomit was being carried from the two drunken miners in the dingy old cells, sleeping off their accursed hangovers after a rowdy night spent in the saloons.

The smell alone would be enough to curl someone's coat tails, dispelling them from any form of appetite. The two drunkards were resting on the thinning stuffed mattresses covering the metal frames of the jail cell bunks, the afflictions cursing them slowly leaving their bodies.

From across the jail cells behind an old rugged wooden desk sat the sheriff, feet propped up on the desk as he stared unamused toward the two guests he had for the night.

His dark brown hair was pushed behind his ears and covered mostly by a black dusty hat fixed upon his head. The blue steely eyes that belonged to the sheriff were narrowed in annoyance. The bags under his eyes would tell the story of a man who was driven by exhaustion and haunted by the need to be a better man after being saved from a life of crime.

As the sheriff pulled his feet off the wooden desk and sat up straight, he adjusted the almost ill-fitting vest covering the faded red button down shirt beneath. He paused and wait a moment before standing, rubbing his calluses hand over the light stubble covering his cheeks and chin.

“Your wives will be here soon to collect you.” He spoke with a husky drawl as he let his tiredness take hold of him.

As he stood by the corner of the desk, he swiped the jail cell keys off the left corner, swinging the ring around his finger. He walked slowly toward the cell, his nose scrunched as he got a fresh whiff of their stench, the pungency of the two dusty miners made his skin crawl.

“Sheriff Barnes.” the door to the sheriffs office opened and shut again, the two women he was expecting entering the building.

“You two are pathetic.” The older of the two women snapped at her husband, the worn and tattered dress adorning her dusted in flour.

“What is that ungodly smell?” the younger of the wives had covered her mouth and nose with a white handkerchief.

“Your husband’s.” Bucky spoke plainly and bluntly as he unlocked the jail cells and let the savage and vengeful women inside.

“You piece of shit!” the elder of the two women started smacking her husband with her hand, her face contorted in anger. “You sack of shit you were supposed to go to the general store and be home!”

She dug her fingernails into his arm as she drug her husband up and off the bed with surprising strength. The poor old coot stumbled and stuttered, mumbling out apologies to his woman as he followed behind like a lost puppy.

“Ugh.” The younger woman gagged while nudging her husband with her black boot. “You’re pathetic. Get up.”

Like the elder woman, the same parade of stumbling and stuttering took place as her husband followed out behind. When the two sorry sacks had left, Bucky slammed the cell doors shut and shook his head.

The men in this town were one of two kinds, by his observation. The miners who were laid up and working tirelessly for the pursuit of silver and gold, any riches they could get, also spent the majority of their time in saloons getting piss drunk and cheating on their wives.

The second type of man, were the farmers and ranchers. Like the first, a great chunk of their time was spent in saloons and brothels, both drinking the pains of their labour away or cheating on their wives.

Neither type of man was worse than the other, they had all decided to do what they could to find their happiness. But in pursuit of their happiness and joy, some have lost themselves more than others.

And the two men he had arrested for drunken disorder and the attempt at shooting each other over a bet, were nothing compared to the monster Bucky saw himself as.

He was worse than the lot of them. His past and what he had done to good men and good families while living as an outlaw, would never be forgotten.

But maybe, as the law himself now, he would be able to earn a little bit of that forgiveness back. And maybe, if he could protect others against the kind of man he was…

Well maybe he could clear a little red off his ledger.

\---

Mother,

I hope you and father are well. I’ve had a great deal of time to think on my journey this far, and the closer I get to my destination in Atlas Colorado, the more anxious I become.

Is it a set of nerves that have overcome me? Is it the knowledge that, other than Margaret and her husband, I will be alone?

I am not too proud to admit that I am frightened, but not in a horrible way, of what is to come. Margaret has told me that the town provides a small residence for the school teacher a few miles from town. A little paradise in the country, if you could imagine that.

I will have a few days to adjust to life on my own before the classes are expected to start, if the journey should go well and remain well.

I have taken one train after the next, and now my journey continues by stagecoach. Do not fear, I am not traveling alone.

I am with a lovely couple on the way to settle with their daughter, husband and kids. They are most generous and have comforted me well when I am weak.

I will write more when I finally arrive at the town. I love you, I love father.

All my love,

Y/N

The letter was stuffed into an envelope and sealed as the stagecoach was driven along the winding road. The bumps and uneven ground on the path had the coach in a constant state of shaking, and you were wishing and hoping that your mother would be able to understand and read your shaky writing.

There was a period of time on your journey that was spent entirely on reading and re-reading a small collection of the books you had brought for the journey. The spines we43 cracked and the pages well loved as you tried to ease your boredom.

If you were not reading or writing letters to your mother back in New York city, then you were admiring the changing scenery.

It was gradual, the scenery changes, but it was lovely. The further away from New York that you got, the easier it was to breathe. The city and the society of those in the city, the society your parents had worked their whole lives to be part of, was so stifling.

The truth lay behind the well put together image. Your mother and father were barely holding it together. Your father was a closet drunkard who had a steady mistress on the side of his marriage, and like most well off men in the city, it was accepted.

And your mother was silent about the whole affair, lest she be cast out and seen as ungrateful for the life her husband provided.

Out here, in Atlas, you would be free. Your soul, your heart would be free. You could feel it, you could feel the freedom of being on your own, of having a job teaching, of being able to find the kind of love you had read about.

Atlas Colorado would be your adventure, it would be your expedition.

You could just feel it.


End file.
